


Deserve It

by yanderekirklandchan



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Depression, Hurt thomas barrow, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rape, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-25 15:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanderekirklandchan/pseuds/yanderekirklandchan
Summary: He said it's not rape. He said Thomas deserved it because he's homosexual. Thomas doesn't think that sounds right.OrHow Thomas Barrow finally learns how to ask for help when he needs it and is surprised by just how much people care.





	1. Chapter 1

Mrs Hughes sighed softly to herself, bumping a pile of papers against the table so that they would at least be neat. She'd attend to the business that they entailed tomorrow. Well 'today' was a better choice of words as it had long passed midnight. On most days she'd be in bed better yet asleep by this ungodly hour but working in her position meant some unconventional sleep patterns if it would help to get the work done. Still, she was only human and although she hadn't finished her work it would have to wait or she'd not get a wink of sleep at all.

It was perhaps because of how tired she was that she didn't pick up on any sign of someone approaching until she had almost walked straight into Thomas Barrow's chest.  
"Oh, good heavens!" She exclaimed, sufficiently startled.  
Thomas, in his defence, looked sheepish. And very pale. It was this fact that stopped her from chiding him. In fact, looking closer even in the dim light she could tell that he looked very out of sorts.

There were deep shadows under his eyes, a testament to the time. His hair was in disarray and he was in his night robe, showing that he had at least been in bed and not sneaking around outside. His eyes were bloodshot and the set of his chin made his expression very sombre. The way he fidgeted in the doorway was a peculiar look on the boy, Mrs Hughes was far too used to seeing him statue still, a skill that all footmen should have if they were to be any good. What alarmed her the most was the uneasy expression on his face. He looked most uncharacteristically unsure of himself and seemed as if he'd run like a skittish deer should she so much as speak too loud.

"S-Sorry… I thought you'd probably gone to sleep." He said, sounding just as shaken as he looked.  
Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow "Oh really? And what business do you have coming into my office when I'm not here?" Her tone was strict but there was no bite to it, though she should be cross the poor boy really did look pitiful.  
Thomas instantly shook his head "No… No! Nothing like that. I did come to see you."  
Mrs Hughes sighed softly to herself, finding herself rather too tired to deal with this "Then why for heaven's sake did you come here when you didn't think I'd be awake?"

Thomas picked anxiously at his half-glove "Um… well. Y'see I… I wanted to speak with you. But… I didn't really."  
Mrs Hughes wasn't sure whether this conversation wasn't making sense because her brain was far too tired or whether it would always sound so ridiculous. Still, the health and wellbeing of the staff here was her job to look after so if Thomas needed her—which he clearly did—then she was all ears.

She smiled softly, trying to appear as kind and welcoming as she could in an attempt to make that terrified look fade from his face.  
"It's okay. Come inside, there's no reason to stand in the doorway like that." She pulled a chair out for him and took a seat patiently. Thomas followed her lead, though he was perched on the edge of the chair as if he was getting ready to run. His hands were clasped together, not still for a moment as he wrung them together. They were the only movement though as the rest of his form was rigidly straight. His eyes were downcast no matter how much Mrs Hughes tried to meet his gaze.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she began to talk "So… you want to talk to me but you don't want to? It's okay. I think I understand. You mean to say, you know you need to talk to me—or, at least, it would be better if you did—but you don't really want to. It's difficult to start talking."  
He nodded, a curt movement that she'd have missed if she'd blinked.  
"And… maybe whenever you've managed to decide you'll do it you end up talking yourself out of its importance?"  
He nodded again.

Mrs Hughes sighed before reaching out and gently squeezing his shoulder "It's okay, Thomas. We're all in situations like that. When you're in it it feels too awful to say or too silly to bother someone with or too inconsequential. Or maybe it feels as if no one will care or no one can help. Now, whatever the case is that is not true. The best thing to do is to tell someone, I guarantee you. Someone you can trust. You can trust me, Thomas. I promise. However big or small. I have your best interest at heart." She smiled encouragingly "I don't bite."

Mrs Hughes tried once more to meet his gaze and, though she didn't succeed, Thomas looked at least a little more at ease. She had made some progress then. Really, the way the boy was acting was starting to get her worried. She knew that she shouldn't be, though. After being in her job for such a long time she'd been through all sorts. She knew by now that it was best to hear the facts before jumping to conclusions.

She stayed silent, encouraging Thomas to speak if he could bring himself to. She knew the boy well by now and he had never been the sort to turn to someone if he needed help. He wouldn't even show it on his face if he was sad unless he was so distraught that he couldn't possibly keep it in. It would be patient work getting him to talk to her but she was willing to do it. Even if it was at the expense of her sleep. She'd never forgive herself if she turned him away and found out the next morning that something horrible had happened.

"I wanted to ask you a question." He said after a pregnant silence.  
Mrs Hughes nodded "Oh? Well, ask away. I'll do my best to answer." She didn't want to say too much, not wanting to scare him off. She heard Thomas take a painfully heavy breath. It made her heart clench, he seemed to be having some intense internal battle.  
"Well… It's not that important. It's not… it's stupid. It's improper. It's… it's… stup—I should go. Sorry for disturbing you."  
Mrs Hughes opened her mouth to protest but Thomas moved with the swiftness of a bird trying to escape a hunt. With the screech of a chair he was gone.

Mrs Hughes was left staring at the spot that he had been with a concerned frown. She wanted to chase him down but knew she couldn't shake the words from him. A question? What question would have Thomas so distressed? She sighed and blew out the candle. She could only hope that he would come back. Mrs Hughes decided that she would let it be but observe him carefully. If she noticed anything worrisome then she would have to press him. She knew the importance of personal space but also of not being alone or letting an issue fester.


	2. Chapter 2

(One week earlier)

He'd only meant to buy a new pack of cigarettes. It was the time of year when summer was no longer bearing down in full scalding force and winter hadn't yet settled a bone-deep chill. To the aristocrats of Britain that made it the only time of year of an acceptable temperature. Suddenly, every family was throwing and attending parties like their lives depended on it.

All it meant to Thomas, however, was that he had to do nearly four times the work with the exact same amount of pay. Less, even, because he only had two hands but Mr Carson wouldn't hesitate to dock his paycheck if he didn't grow a third for the sake of tending to the family. Well, Thomas almost felt sorry for the man. It was hard enough for Thomas and he didn't even give a damn. Mr Carson had to deal with the extra workload while genuinely caring about what it amounted to for his precious family.

At any cost, the stress was enough for Thomas to have smoked through his pack of cigarettes and become in need of a new one. Or two. Maybe three, just to be safe. It wasn't very often that he got to leave the house and like hell was he going to be caught in the rush of it all without a sufficient amount of nicotine in his veins. It was this that had led him to the village, there was a good shop where resided one of the only men left in Britain who actually liked him. Thomas should hope so, with his heavy smoking habits he probably accounted for the majority of the man's income.

It was nice. For a moment Thomas was touched over the thought that someone actually cared about him, someone thought of him in a positive light. Someone would bat an eye if he died, maybe even be sad. Then he thought of it another way: him being the source of sustenance for a parasite, the man's eyes eagerly lighting up when he walked into the shop like a babies would at the sight of their mother's breast or a mosquito at a pulse. He was nothing but money to him. That thought was enough for Thomas to remember himself. Remember why being friendly and getting fond was never a good idea.

Still, he was civil. Joked dryly as the shop keeper retrieved his usual order. It wouldn't do to be rude to the man who controlled the flow of the one thing left in Thomas' life he actually cared about: tobacco. If Thomas found himself smiling back when the shopkeeper bid him good day then it was obviously a trick of the light or perhaps he'd contracted a head cold.

It was on the way out that things went bad. Naturally, the cigarette shop was sandwiched between the liquor shop and the pub, all tending to attract the same audience. Thomas personally didn't like to indulge in such things. Well, he liked the relief it gave a man from his own mind but he simply couldn't bear the idea of making a fool of himself or, heaven forbid, him opening up and blabbing all his deepest darkest secrets. Liquor loosened the tongue so therefore had no place in his life, at least not for becoming drunk. He could appreciate a stiff drink like any man.

It was because of his location that he hadn't felt alarmed. A man came stumbling out of the pub, clearly as squiffy as they come. He barely made it from the door to the wall that he was leaning rather heavily on but still he held himself like he was so far up his own arse he'd found gold. Thomas snorted. Alcohol made a man a fool who thought himself a king.  
"Oi you." He called out.  
As far as Thomas knew there was no possible reason he should engage the man so he kept on walking. He could hold his own in a fight but wasn't the sort who would go trying to start one if he could help it.

The man didn't seem to like being ignored. Thomas could imagine his alcohol rouged face turning redder as he tried both to glare at Thomas' back and stay upright. Of course, it was only imagination as he didn't so much as look around to see what the man was doing. Thomas knew from long experience that the best way to deal with a drunk was to stay at arm's length. A drunk man might be quick to fight but they were quick to stumble. A sober man was what you really had to look out for.

He felt something wet and horrid hit the back of his neck and cringed in disgust. The bastard had spat on him!  
"Fucking bitch!" The man cried before slinking off to whatever hole he'd come from.  
Thomas stiffened, though he knew he should be relieved to see the back of him. But that insult… why that insult? He wasn't offended, he'd heard far worse. But he was disturbed. It was something that people would primarily call a woman. Did he have something particularly effeminate about himself? Was there a rumour going around town about the pathetic lavender under butler of Downton Abbey? Or did he simply have 'homosexual abomination' branded across his soul for any man to read? Normally it wouldn't have gotten to him this much. But after Jimmy… That fiasco had nearly ruined him.

He'd never shouted his sexuality from the rooftops but he wasn't the most covert gay there was. But seeing the fire on Carson's face, the pity in Mrs Hughes' eyes, the sheer disgust of Alfred. Packing his bag as he sobbed, shaking so hard he had taken three tries to close the clasp, as he knew he must flee with nothing. No reference. No home. No friends. No hope. And to know that even then he was lucky because he should be carted off to jail or an asylum. Well… it'd all made it far more real. This wasn't a game anymore. It was like his social status. Try as he might he would never be an Earl or a Duke. He would never done upstairs in the finest of suits, having been dressed by his own valet. His biggest ambition would be to become said valet.

Because he was a servant. A worker. Lower class. No wishing or stomping his feet and shouting that the unfairness of it all would change that. It was just the same with his sexuality. All those happy couples, the men who could love a woman and the women who could love a man, they were the Dukes and Duchesses that sat on thrones surrounded by gold. And he, poor uneducated servant, was a lavender. A homosexual. A fairy. Doomed to watch from below the staircase as the nobility feasted upon delicacies, his own stomach empty and cold. It had hammered home to him that he could never love. He was against nature. He wasn't right in the head. He was sick. And if anyone found out he would be a dead man. So the idea that even a village drunk could tell he was a fairy when he could probably not even count his own feet was incredibly alarming.

With that Thomas all but fled back to Downton. And if his livery sleeves had a hint of blood on them the next day then it was probably just a trick of the light. Call it punishment. Or purgatory. Or a cure. But, of course, whatever the red gashes on his wrists were didn't particularly matter because no one cared to ask. No one even noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

(Six days before)

The last thing Thomas wanted after yesterday's ordeal with the drunkard was to go into town again, not to mention to go to the pub. But that was exactly what he was doing. It was just his luck, really. Normally an evening out like this would be a treasure, those in service had so little time for going out at their own leisure. While Thomas wasn't an avid drinker he could appreciate a good pub. If it were a big city like York or London he'd even attempt to pick someone up, a feat far too risky for a small town where everyone knew everyone and no secret was hidden.

But today he simply couldn't bear the thought of being in the pub, feeling as if every person there knew his unspeakable secret. How had that man known? What were people saying about him? He couldn't take it! And needless to say that after the Jimmy fiasco the mere thought of even flirting with a man made him sick to the stomach. Fuck, he was disgusting. He was as bad as all the newspapers made his type out as being. The look on Jimmy's face… Every shouted word had shattered Thomas' heart into more little pieces.

He took a heavy swig of his beer by ways of forgetting. Though tobacco was his choice of poison, he could see himself slipping into this all too common vice if he wasn't careful. There was something wonderfully punishing about the burn of whisky or vodka, not that he could afford either. Like the alcohol would cleanse thoughts and sins as it did utensils and wounds. He couldn't get drunk tonight, though. He had Jimmy and Alfred by way of company and they already thought poorly enough of him.

"Cheer up, Barrow. We're trying to be nice, you know. Asking you out like this." Jimmy said with a furrowed brow that Thomas interpreted as annoyance.  
Alfred's lips were pressed together "You have Mrs Hughes to thank. She thought you ought to have a distraction what with how sickly you looked all today."  
Thomas smiled cynically "Oh don't worry Alfred, I know Mrs Hughes is behind this. Heaven forbid that I think you would want to be in my presence without being forced to."

He knew he shouldn't be so short. He knew that Alfred had every right to be disgusted with him and treat him like shit. He was a sinful abomination after all. In fact, he wasn't trying to defend himself, in all honestly he was starting to despise himself just as much as society did, maybe even more. After all, no one had taken a knife to his flesh but himself. But he couldn't keep his mouth shut, he never could. Goading Alfred like this was like scratching at a wound, of course he would bleed but he hadn't expected anything else. It was merely morbid, sickening, self destructive fascination.

Alfred's jaw made an audible crunch as he clenched his jaw "As a matter of fact, that's true. I won't deny it, I don't feel I need to. I'm only here because Mrs Hughes said someone had to and like hell am I leaving Jimmy to your mercy." He sneered.  
Thomas had been expecting an insult, pushing for one even, but it still made him recoil. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and his heart clenched most painfully. To be treated like some dangerous, sex driven beast… but he couldn't even defend himself because it was true.

Jimmy frowned "Oi. I'll have you know I'm more than capable of defending myself."  
"Shouldn't have to, is all." Alfred said "You shouldn't have to put up with him at all. The law says 'e should be in jail not here bothering you."  
Thomas listened with an increasingly pained heart, massaging his chest gently when the pain became too much. Really, if his heart would just give in already life would be far easier. Well… death would be far easier that is. It was as if he wasn't here as they were speaking. Or, more accurately, as if he was so far beneath them that he didn't warrant so much as an acknowledgement, even though he was the topic of conversation.

"And what about you, Jimmy?" Thomas said in an empty voice "Why did you agree to come? Wanted to see the circus freak? Perform an exorcism maybe?" He continued to goad. He was well aware he was kicking the bull's cage but he jolly well deserved to be trampled.  
Jimmy frowned "Fuck off, Barrow. You're always such a dick to everyone." Was all he said before turning to Alfred and the pair started their own conversation, Thomas forgotten. Or ignored, more realistically.

Thomas closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands as he leant against the bar. He knew that in the light of his recent exposure he should be trying to be extra nice to people as compensation but really it was a lost cause. If he was nice people would probably think he was hitting on them. Trying to corrupt them. Anyway, being nice wouldn't make up for his sins. He was in all ways revolting to society, he had no place in this world.

Being nice was a waste of time so he might as well fuel the fire. Punch before he got punched, as he always did. Only, in this case it was punch and get a mob with flaming pitchforks anyway. He was already on fire so he might as well feed the flames. Really, anything he did was wrong and if he didn't shroud himself in spite and anger then he would break down crying and he was a prideful creature. He may be on his way to an asylum but heaven forbid someone sees him cry.

Thomas looked up from his hands when he was sure that the danger of tears had been averted, the stinging in his eyes dying down. He observed the rest of the pub, wanting to move away from Alfred and Jimmy, feeling as if he was radiating dark energy that would taint them, the thought making him sick.

They'd both be far happier if he went away. But the pub was full, it was nighttime after all and this was the only solace many a man had. All he could manage was shimmy his way to the other side of the bar where there was a small gap just big enough for him. It put a little distance between him and his two companions and that would have to do.

Thomas sighed heavily, chugging the last few gulps of his beer down in one go. He should perhaps be saving it, he couldn't afford another glass, but he couldn't bring himself to. He swayed a little tipsy, though he could handle his liquor well enough. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking but he was suddenly very compelled by the idea of simply walking off into the night and never returning to Downton Abbey. He would surely not make it through the week and what a relief that would be to the world.

It was his mildly alcohol addled mind that meant that he didn't quite register his newly filled pint until he'd had a good moment or two staring at it.  
"I thought you looked about ready for a refill." The man next to him said with a kindly smile, beady eyes flitting about Thomas' form in a way that made him feel rather like a lab rat.  
Thomas smiled despite himself "Yes… Thank you." It genuinely touched him to be shown such kindness from a stranger. He was so affection starved that the mere idea of someone looking at him and seeing a person made his chest warm.

He sipped at the drink, weary that he must pace himself or risk getting properly drunk.  
The man stared a moment longer before leaning against the bar and nursing his own drink "So… Did you come alone?"  
Thomas hesitated "Well… I didn't arrive on my own and yet I find myself alone yes."  
"Shame."  
"Is it?" Thomas asked himself just as much as the man. Did he really want to spend time with Jimmy and Alfred? Yes. Yes he did. He wanted to be included, welcomed. He wanted friends. It was a lost cause though so it was better to convince himself that he was alone by design.

The silence didn't stretch on much longer until the man was talking again.  
"Do you live close?" He asked with the same flitting intense look.  
Thomas nodded "Close enough. It's a bit of a walk, though. I live outside of the village itself."  
"You can't just run across the road to your home then?"  
Thomas shook his head "Nah, definitely not." He huffed a laugh "That close to a pub? I'd be in trouble then!"  
The man's lips quirked "Quite."  
The silence persisted a moment longer, the stranger silently observing Thomas make a proper dent in his drink.  
"So you're really completely alone?" He repeated.  
Thomas nodded, his heart feeling heavy "Yes. There's no one more alone than me." He muttered darkly.

The man nodded to himself and Thomas thought nothing of it. Until, that was, he felt a jolt of feeling rush through his arse, a gasp shocked from his lips, his eyes wide. He found the man's hand had taken a rough hold of his arse and he seemed to be in no hurry to let go. Thomas grimace, shifting uncomfortably and trying to scoot away from the man's grasp without making a scene. That was the last thing he needed.

Thomas let out a staggered breath "I'm sorry, sir… I'm afraid you've misunderstood me." He tentatively pushed against the stranger's chest but he wouldn't budge. Instead, he seemed to double in on his efforts, the hand on his arse roughly starting to squeeze and knead. Thomas grimaced, his heart rate picking up rapidly in panic. It hurt but the fact that it also felt good made it all the more humiliating. This man just reaching out and taking what he wanted like that made Thomas incredibly uncomfortable. He knew he could be a bit of a tease sometimes but had he really asked for this without even realising?

"What is there to misunderstand?" The man's voice was dangerously low and husky as he leaned so close his hot breath warmed Thomas' ear in the most sickeningly way "You are the village lavender whore, are you not?"  
Thomas' felt his heart palpitate then pick up at a tenfold speed. He was so shocked and horrified at the implications of those few words that he entirely forgot to be offended. The village lavender whore? That implied that he was notorious… how did they know? How the bloody hell did they know! He was so careful. He was always so careful, keeping every person at arm's length. He never allowed himself to make friends for fear of being discovered. He'd never taken a lover in this village, always careful to go far away and use a fake name.

Thomas felt so sick and light headed that he didn't even resist when the man turned him and pulled him close. Too close. Thomas' back was pressed up against an intimidatingly strong chest. But even more compromisingly, his arse was pressed right against something hard and Thomas had a terrified suspicion of what it was. He couldn't let this get any further! He was already in deep trouble, if a man had his way with him in a place as public and we'll frequented as the local pub then he would wake up tomorrow to police sirens.

That aside, the idea of being intimate with this man made him feel ill. It wasn't that he was not handsome, he did have decent enough looks. But Thomas wasn't aroused right now, not in the slightest. He was quite frankly terrified and felt sick to the stomach. How could this be happening to him? This would ruin him! He let out a panicked whimper when he felt the man's hardness rubbing between his cheeks. The idea that this cur was getting off from him right now made him nauseous.

"I'm not a whore." He said in a soft voice that was little more than a whisper, eyes downcast. He couldn't pull away, the man was gripping him harshly enough to leave handprints on his hips and any movement only rubbed his cock against Thomas more. Thomas could feel his body reacting, feeling like the cold prickles of a fever. He hated this! He wished he was stronger. A proper man, as his father would say. Then he could run. Then he could defend himself. But here he was, some damsel in distress. Only if a knight came along he'd laugh and hold his arms down while this man beat him.

The stranger smirked, Thomas could feel it from where his lips were pressed violatingly against his neck.  
"Really? All your type are." He slipped a hand into Thomas' trousers, making Thomas close his eyes in a pained grimace. He felt rough fingers prodding his hole "I bet you've taken all sorts up here, you disgusting fairy harlot."  
Thomas shook his head, eyes still screwed shut " 'm not… I-I'm not a fairy!"  
The words hadn't even fully escaped his mouth when he was spanked harshly "Do not lie to me!"

Thomas gasped, despite himself, his arse stinging painfully. For a bare handed smack over his clothed bottom that really hurt, which didn't bode well. That meant that this man was strong. Strong enough to easily overpower Thomas. Though he tried to stay calm and collected, Thomas began to shake.  
The stranger continued to talk indifferently "Yes, I'm sure if I bent you over this counter top and bared you for the whole pub to see you could take every man up you easily all in a row." It made Thomas' skin crawl the way his voice was undeniably aroused, as if he wanted nothing more than to witness that exact scenario.

Still, he continued talking "You'd like that, huh whore?"  
Thomas shook his head feverently no but earned nothing but another sharp spanking for his troubles, his bottom left smarting.  
"I told you not to lie!" He hissed.  
Thomas was all but cowering against the bar now. Surely if he could somehow climb over the bar then he'd be safe on the other side?  
"Your type disgusts me." The man sneered "You're all unnatural and sick. You're evil beings made for nothing but sex, how horrid. It's the only thing you're good for.

"If it were up to me all lavenders would be tied down arse up in the street so passing gentlemen can fuck them till they bleed." His voice was riddled with excitement "Then you'd be taught a lesson, if you really want your arse stuffed that much. Give them what they want, I say, and don't stop giving it even when you're begging for mercy and apologising and saying you were wrong all along. Then the lavenders of the world will be cured of their sick need to have cock inside them. It should be a law that lavenders can't say no to a proper man. They should bend over and part their legs as soon as one enters the room as an offering. It is what you sick monsters are made for, after all."

Thomas was feeling incredibly light headed, his breaths coming in strained gasps, eyes wide. He would think he was going to faint if it wasn't for the fact that he thought he might have already fainted. Only, he felt ever so dizzy and the room was spinning at an alarming rate. This man was insane! Except… Thomas kept on having to remind himself that in this situation he was the one in the wrong. He wasn't some poor lady being abused. He was a homosexual. A lavender, as the man said. This man would be entirely entitled except for the fact that he was clearly a homosexual as well. Or was he? He could maybe be simply excited over the idea of punishing a lavender.

"Please…" Thomas managed to croak out, his throat constricted in fright, "I don't want any trouble."  
"Nor do I, little harlot. So if you would so kindly come into the back room without a fuss like a good little prostitute then I won't have to beat you more than I have to."  
Thomas was well aware that he was shaking like a leaf. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Why wasn't anyone helping him? Logically he knew that it was because only he could hear the man's whispered words but his panicked brain insisted that it was because everyone agreed. Everyone was in on it. Everyone knew he was a lavender whore!

"Please…!" He sobbed out softly.  
The man's hands tightened on his thighs "What did I tell you about begging? You can do it all you like but you can't take back what you've already asked for. I'm only giving you what you want." Thomas' assailant said in a voice that, had he not been entirely insane, would almost sound reasonable.  
Knowing he had limited time, Thomas did all he could think of doing by means of escape and lashed out so his beer glass fell onto the man's foot, smashing over the limb.

The man cursed and instantly let go of Thomas in favour of clutching his foot and cursing loudly "Mother fucker!" The man cursed, grabbing furiously at Thomas with eyes glistening in rage.  
But Thomas was too quick. His fight or flight response had kicked in and he was on the run. He ducked down and crawled along the floor so as not to be tracked by the man. When he made it to where Jimmy and Alfred were still standing he straightened as much as he dared.

Alfred's eyes were wide with surprise "Thomas! What is this all about?" He said with a suspicious frown.  
"Can we go now?" Thomas said in a thoroughly shaken voice.  
Jimmy frowned "Now what's all this about? First you disappear and now you want us to go home so soon? Where's your sense of fun!"  
Thomas felt the room swaying around him again and it was all he could do to stay standing. Every second they stayed here he expected to feel rough hands closing around his neck and dragging him off.

"Please!" He begged in a whisper that was all but a sob. Thomas looked and sounded pitiful, and Jimmy and Alfred had noticed too because they were both very sombre, the disgust and annoyance that was usually presence momentarily forgotten.  
Jimmy opened his mouth as if he was about to ask a question before thinking better of it and nodding. The three made their way out.

Thomas all but ran, though he was fearful of straying too far from the presence of the other two men. That stranger had made a big emphasis on him being alone. And the fact that he couldn't run to wherever he lived easily. How had Thomas been so stupid? He should have run long before he was being physically restrained, insulted, and dry humped. He expected to be caught any second. How had the man not found him? He was surely lurking in every shadow.

Thomas would have run home straight away had he not been petrified of being alone in the dark. If the stranger could do all that in a pub surrounded by people he was loath to think what would become of him if he was alone in a dark alley with the man.

By some miracle they made it back to the Abbey without being confronted, though every rustle had Thomas jumping out of his skin, expecting to have his clothes ripped of and to be pinned down and used till he was bleeding, as the man said. He was thankful that Alfred and Jimmy stayed quiet and didn't ask any questions, apparently too rattled by seeing him so out of sorts when he was usually hidden behind an indifferent mask.

Thomas didn't think he could take any insults or jibes at the moment. His nerves were so fragile that a single taunt would surely have him throwing himself off the wagon they were on and into the path of a passing car.

He didn't say a word to either of the men, rushing straight to his room where he promptly locked the door and burst into tears. The only solace he had that night was the sweet caress of his beloved blade.


End file.
